


Steady breaths

by MaethorialBelle



Series: Tumblr fics, prompts and drabbles [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaethorialBelle/pseuds/MaethorialBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A litte look at how Maerwynne and Cullen are coping a few weeks post trespasser</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steady breaths

Maerwynne traced a ghost of a touch over the curved limb of her bow. Her other hand flexed at the urge to run it’s phantom fingers through the feather fletchings on her arrows. An odd sensation, even stranger than the dead weight of pity-laden stares and awkward apologies, to be able to feel the longing of something that only existed in memories now. Of all the things she’d lost, of everything that now lay in pieces upon the rug she’d had pulled from under her, the thought of never being able to feel a steady shot slip through her fingers hurt the most. Besides Dorian leaving of course, but that dread was steadily dimming with daily conversations that bled into nights; at Dorian’s undeniable devotion to make his home worthy again.

Maerwynne thought back to her youth, to her teenage years both a decade and a lifetime ago, when she’d held numerous titles - none earned through privilege - that told the world of her true aim. Or at least those in the eastern Free Marches, those that hosted archery tourneys for coddled children that never cared, their noses too skyward to shoot straight, in an attempt to thwart Bann Trevelyan’s youngest; a fool of a girl still wrapped up in tales of Ferelden’s latest heroine. It was never supposed to last forever, the glory and the thrill; the titles would mean nothing once she’d taken her vows and donned chantry robes that fit more like shackles. But Maker, it wasn’t supposed to end like _this_. A single sly tear, warm and fat, slipped down a freckled cheek; tickling her lips until she licked it away.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

Maerwynne hid her flinch behind the flinging of her arm as she beckoned her husband nearer with a wild wave. He was quick to dip the matress, to lay with his chest against her back, a gentle hand tracing words of adoration against her stomach. Cullen pressed a kiss against her neck, a chaste peck meant to soothe not push, before rubbing his stubbled jaw against hers in the way that never failed to make her shiver. Her shoulders shuddered against him, much to his joy, but her laughter was thick with banished tears; the ones Cullen knew had lingered too long behind terrible jokes and assurances that she really was fine.

“Was there something you needed husband?”

Cullen hummed against her, tugging her closer with a contented sigh as his eyes fluttered to a close. “I could make up an excuse, though I’d rather just confess that I long to spend time with my wife.”

“ _Wife_ ” she repeated, muted and mellow. “You know, back when I was promised to the chantry there were only two things I ever dreamed of being: a wife and a hero. Well, actually, at first I wanted to be a princess, then a pirate _and then_ came the hero thing.”

Cullen snorted at her confession, “I’m more relieved about you no longer wanting to be a part of royalty than I am your forgotten dreams of piracy.” He thought about her words in the silence that followed. _A wife and a hero_ , _both admirable goals_ he thought to himself. “Might I ask, how does it feel to have achieved both those things?” Cullen felt more than heard her shaky exhale, his mabari’s whine from the foot of the bed perfectly echoing his own sorry sentiment.

“It’s certainly odd” Maerwynne chuckled, not that Cullen believed she was truly amused. She nudged forward, though not enough to break out of his tightening grip, to place her weaponry tenderly on the floor. Her gentle handling of the metal-pronged bow, that legend alleged belonged to the hero of the fourth blight, reminded Cullen of the tender touches usually reserved for handling shattered glass or frightened animals. “I just wish I didn’t have to choose.” 

Cullen tried to ignore the worry that whispered doubts into his ear and clawed at his chest. Tried to disregard the same gnawing nerves that had nipped at his heels ever since they’d left Skyhold together; when her eyes had first started to linger on him for too long when she thought his attention lay elsewhere. “What do you mean?” _Do you tire of our life together already?_

“I want to save him Cullen.” Her words burst free from a traitorous tongue, tired of tasting the same nurtured musings that were only ever spoken to empty rooms and their hound that knew far too many secrets; though was smart enough not to repeat any of them. “I don’t believe he really wants to go through with his plan. Solas wants me to show him he’s wrong about our world, I just know it.” 

Cullen dragged his hand to her hip, tugging in an attempt to turn her toward him, then huffed an exasperated breath as she lay unmoving. “Maerwynne,” he murmured mournfully, “how much more of yourself are you willing to give?” A foolish question when he knew her answer would only serve to frighten him further.

“I would have given everything.”

“That’s not comforting.“

“Well,” she frowned, if only for a moment, “that’s why I have to choose. If I carry on there will probably be nothing left of me; and I want to give myself to you completely, as much as I can.” She shuffled against the sheets, twisting until she faced him. “I never imagined myself as the doting wife of a Ferelden Dog Lord, but you’ve been quite well behaved so far. Soon you’ll be almost as house trained as the mabari.” She slipped her hand into the silken curls at the back of his head, teasing him with words and touches alike.

Cullen slipped a stray strand of hair from her face, hating how it must have hurt her not to be able to move it easily herself. “Marrying some Free Marcher’s noble wasn’t exactly what I had planned for myself once I left the order, but at least you’ve yet to demand that I only speak when spoken to. And I believe this is the first time you’ve ever referred to me as a “dog lord”, how well you’ve done.” 

She scoffed at that, though for the first time in months her smile reached her eyes for more than just a fleeting moment. “I can think of worse things to call you, _My Lord.”_

Blonde brows framed panicked eyes _. “Maker’s breath,_ even in jest that makes me sweat.”

Maerwynne pulled him closer, unable to resist laying a kiss against his scar as it twitched temptingly with his smirk. She only pulled away so far, enough to be able to gorge on his amber gaze, but lingered close enough that their breaths mingled; honey, ale and caramel colliding. “I love you. You know that, right?” 

Cullen chuckled at the familiar sentiment, basking in the memory of that blissfull morning, the one after their first time together when she’d made the same declaration that had him grinning like a fool for days after. Things were different now, they’d both been swept up in the tide of a changing world, now left to deal with the debris that remained before they were washed away once more. But one thing remained, would always remain, constant. 

“I love you too.”


End file.
